Page 12 of Casting Butterflies

“My aunt never said, but mom claimed she’d changed. Even odder, she came back with enough money to buy the house you saw and never work a day in her life.”

“Must have been quite the fortune, given her expensive collection of butterflies.”

“I think she hooked up with some rich guy in Europe, and when they split, he paid her off.”

A plausible explanation but for the fact Papillon had a magical necklace, her house shielded against magic, and had turned into a butterfly-crazed recluse.

“I don’t suppose I could walk through the house again.”

“I’m afraid the contents were mostly sold,” he apologized.

Thinking quick, I blurted out, “Actually, I’m interested in the house itself. I imagine it will be going on the market soon.”

“It is, and even better, I haven’t signed with a realtor yet, meaning we could probably negotiate on the price since there wouldn’t be a fee for them.”

As if I could afford it but I pretended like a pro. “That would be amazing. What time is good for you?”

“I have a few things to take care of. Say after lunch, around two?”

“Perfect, see you then.”

Only I didn’t see Jeremiah, or the house. He called me just as I was readying to leave.

“Ms. Girard, glad I caught you. Unfortunately, there’s no point in you coming by my aunt’s place.”

“I take it you got another buyer.”

“No, and I’ll be getting a lot less for place since it burned to the ground.”

My jaw dropped as Jeremiah explained that, by the time firefighters reached the place, it was completely ablaze. The cause? Unknown, but given its age, electrical was the most likely culprit.

However, my brain—which watched way too many conspiracy shows—immediately wondered if it were arson. Someone maybe looking to destroy evidence. The wrong hands pissed they didn’t get the artifact. Papillon’s ghost.

When I broke the news to Cedric, to my surprise, he shared my suspicion. “Seems a little too coincidental.”

“Agreed, but at the same time, Papillon had been hiding there for years. Seems even more of a jump to think whoever she might have been hiding from suddenly knew where to find her.” Even as I said it, I remembered what the girl told me. “Apparently, she never left her property until the day she fell off ladder and got taken to the hospital. The girl said she freaked. She believed the butterflies and her property kept her hidden.”

Cedric didn’t have to say aha; he simply wore a smug feline look.

“You do realize all of this is assumption.”

“It’s called processing the information we have.”

“Which is minimal and, with the house gone, all we have.”

“Except for the necklace.”

I grimaced. “Way to remind me.”

“Shall we study it?”

“Not yet. I’ve got to do some groceries because the cupboard is bare.” I also needed to hit the liquor store for more wine because I’d run out. The horror, I know. I also hit the weed store—a legal Canadian perk—and grabbed a box of joints and a bag of edible gummies. Don’t judge. My last stop? The grocery store, where I filled my cart with veggies and meat and other stuff, including snacks—to go with the gummies. In honor of Charlie, I grabbed her favorite flavor of chips. Maybe I’d give her a ring with the mirror later and munch on them while we chatted—she’d totally be jealous I had her favorite salty treat and hopefully decide she needed to pop over for a visit.

Once I got home, late afternoon, I put off Cedric and his request to play with the necklace. I had no intention of tackling it on an empty belly. I tossed together a savory chicken paprika, which I served over some freshly made egg noodles. Time consuming but worth every delicious—and delaying—bite.

By the time I’d cleaned up—scouring every counter, washing every dish by hand—Cedric practically vibrated with agitation.

When I hung up my dishrag, he finally growled, “Are you done stalling?”